


One Example of the many Nonsensical Situations Thrust Upon Jon Snow.

by Alzerak



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Humor, This Is STUPID, don't take this seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 22:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18765778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alzerak/pseuds/Alzerak
Summary: For Jon Snow, random suffering was a thing of the past - up until now, when one particularly mischievous god - namely me, decided to put him through the wringer, so to speak.  Fortunately for him - and for all of you, this tale isn’t though serious and depressing tales that make you cry - I’d never be able to match that emotional impact and frankly I’m not ready to try.  So I do what I can do, and Jon Snow is going to be placed into the crackiest of crack scenarios.





	1. Chapter 1

It was an absolutely perfect day for Jon as he walked through the halls of Winterfell. Sansa, who had been working extremely hard, was still working extremely, organising a do with the Karstarks. Jon was taking his daughter for a post breakfast walk in the gardens, where he and Lyanna would make each other flower crowns and bring a bouquet back to mama.

As they were returning, happily covered with flowers and Lyanna clutching a bunch of flower-stems in a chubby, suddenly they were popped out of existence and back in.

The first thing Jon registered was that he was surrounded by people, and that was enough for Longclaw to come out.

*Cue theme song*

So you know when the theme song plays you have the illusion of at least a couple of moments having passed but for the characters you’re watching no time has passed at all. Well, for that reason the characters have had time to reflect but not act.

Jon’s skill meant that he did not slice off any heads nearby, and as Jon took in his position he realised that he wasn’t surrounded by immediate danger, or what appeared to be immediate danger - whatever trickery this was, it was probably subtler (it wasn’t, it’s just me being stupid, but Jon isn’t to know that).

Jon recognised the great doors in front of him, but before he could register what it was, a couple of voices spoke up.

”Please,” a man began with both gravitas and desperation. “Step away from the children. You will not be harmed if you comply.”

As Jon spun around, a second voice responded.

“Ned, you can’t promise him that! He nearly landed on our daughter!” 

Jon’s eyes flicked from Ned and Catelyn to Arya, who was sitting, slack-jawed next to him, looking as shocked as Jon felt. Catelyn Stark seemed to notice the babe cradled in Jon’s arm, and her demeanour shifted.

“Of course I’d do the same thing if I had my daughter in my arms and was whisked away.” Catelyn said, looking with what seemed to be a little bit of respect at Jon for the first time ever.

Seemingly satisfied that there was no instant threat of bloodshed, both Jon Snow and Jory Cassel sheathed their swords and Jon turned to Arya, who luck would have had been sitting on the opposite side of Jon’s sword hand.

As Jon turned to say something to her, Lyanna began to squeal and babble.

“AYA! Ayayayayaya!” Giggling away happily to herself, Lyanna stretched herself away from Jon and towards Arya, who gingerly accepted the her exuberant hug.

“AYAYA!” Lyanna greeted happily, who was quite happy and able to indulge the infant and instantly started pulling faces which made Lyanna shriek with delight which gave a chance for Jon, Ned and Catelyn to take stock of the situation.

Ned, once the instant danger was over, seemed to be in a state of shock as he looked Jon over.

Catelyn though, also seemed to recognise Jon. “Why have you come here, future Jon Snow?” Catelyn demanded imperiously. “Dropping in unannounced like that. Seems like some sort of Bastard mischief to me.”

Time had lessened the effects of Catelyn’s behaviour towards Jon, and he easily understood why Catelyn Stark would be so suspicious at the moment.

“Lady Stark, if I had the ability to move myself though space and time, would I choose this moment?”

Catelyn studied Jon, flowers in his hair, the ease in which he carried himself that seemed to indicate he was a seasoned fighter.

“Only to save your daughter, from the look of you seemed to be in no danger from wherever and whenever you came from… I believe… wait, what is that on your chest?”

Sansa had, of course, lovingly crafted Stark sigils onto all of Jon’s clothing, and his doublet had an easily recognisable wolf’s head just above his chest.

“By who’s authority do you have the right to wear that sigil?” Catelyn demanded.

Jon knew how to lie, and knew that some of the best lies were truths that contained lies of omission. For Catelyn, the most likely suspects were most likely to be her husband and first born.

“By authority of her grace, the Queen.” Jon replied solemnly, looking around the room, as Arya and Lyanna continued to babble away at each other, Lyanna now trying to place her now slightly broken flower crown on Arya’s head.

 

Catelyn shot an incredulous look at her husband before shooting a demanding look at Jon. “Why would Cersei Lannister legitimise you?” 

“Oh, it wasn’t her, it’s a different queen.”

“A different queen? In a different part of the timeline? With the knowledge and desire to legitimise you? Does whoever this Queen is have any idea of the political consequences of such an action.”

It was easy to defend Sansa, especially her political nous. “Her grace is the finest political mind I have ever known. Her leadership has led us all to an unmatched era of prosperity and…”

Jon started to go off on a tangent about the magnificence of the unnamed queen Sansa Stark when Theon Greyjoy spoke.

“Well of course you’d love her, she named you a Stark!”

For the first time, Robb Stark spoke up. “Well, think logically, Theon. If I hazard a guess Jon is about 10 years older now - most of us Stark children would not only accept Jon as a Stark in blood but in name - now if tragedy struck and Mother and Father were no longer with us, I can easily envisage most of us willing and wanting Jon to be a Stark.

Catelyn frowned, but seemed to understand the logic.

“Perhaps Sansa would be opposed or at least reluctant to the idea.” Robb mused. “But for myself, Arya and Bran, it seems to be an easy explanation.”

Catelyn turned and spoke quickly to Ned. “It seems like he’s telling the truth as much as he’s saying. Robert and Joffrey must have passed and Joffrey’s bride must have a child too young to sit on the throne. It explains why the Queen has legitimised him instead of the King.”

“Until we work out how to fix this issue, if it is indeed possible, you will stay here.” Catelyn Stark commanded.

“Thank you, Lady Stark.” Behind Jon, the doors started to creak open, and Lyanna, after giving Arya a wet kiss, indicated her desire to be let down before grabbing the bouquet.

“May I ask, who is hand of the king at the present time?”  
Before anyone could answer, time seemed to slow for Jon and speed up everywhere else.

Lyanna raced across the main thoroughfare of the Great Hall towards the door, Jon seemed to be stuck in molasses as he slowly turned around and registered two people entering the hall, but Lyanna had eyes only for one of them.

You know the meme of ‘pictures taken minutes before disaster’?

This was one of them. Every face turned to the path Lyanna was charging down. Theon was staring open mouthed at the scene, a half-eaten bread roll forgotten in his hand. Robb’s eyes were following every movement that Lyanna made. Arya’s eyes flicked from the people coming through the door and back to Jon. Jon didn’t even want to know what was happening behind him.

And then Lyanna shattered everything as she ran, arms outstretched, and bellowed out as only a baby could.

“MAMA!”


	2. Chapter 2

And normal service of the time-stream resumed as Lyanna barrelled into the skirts of one Sansa Stark.

“Mama, up!” Lyanna demanded, arms outstretched. Jon watched his life flash before his eyes as Jeyne Poole glanced from the child, to Sansa and then to Jon.

Sansa however, with all the grace that Jon knew and loved her for, easily and smoothly scooped Lyanna up. Whilst everyone else was completely discombobulated, Sansa provided a moment of sanity whilst Jon racked his brain to try and come up with a believable explanation as to why his daughter would run up to Sansa and scream out ‘MAMA!’ Fortunately, the idea of Jon and Sansa having a child together would be utterly ridiculous to everyone, expect perhaps the man Jon still considered to be a father. Catelyn might suspect some foul play from Jon, but her faith in Sansa would hopefully assuage that. Everyone would be looking for explanation that didn’t involve the explanation of Jon and Sansa actually having a child together, so Jon would work with that. Fortunately, Sansa was not panicking about being suddenly thrust into motherhood, and easily parried Catelyn Stark when she spoke up.

“Sansa, put her down, she’s not your-”

“Mother,” Sansa responded diplomatically yet with the air of someone in charge of the situation. “She believes that I am though. Would you abandon an innocent baby who had lost its mama - “

Sansa was cut off by Lyanna delightedly shrieking “Mama!” before wrapped her arms around Sansa’s neck and burying her face in Sansa’s shoulder. 

Smoothly, Sansa continued with the air of a master manipulator. “Now imagine if you weren’t there and no one picked Rickon up when he was missing his mama.”

A single dramatic tear rolled down Catelyn’s cheek - but Jon wasn’t to know that, too stunned by Sansa’s easy control of a situation that she had thrust into so unexpectedly.

Now Sansa changed her tack from pulling on the emotional heartstrings of Catelyn Stark to a very serious countenance as she surveyed the great hall.

“I’ve only had -” Sansa glanced at Jon, Jon understanding the querying gaze instantly.

“Lyanna.” Jon coughed out, knowing that it would probably make Ned Stark’s face that much more readable, but Lyanna would never understand a fake name.

“Lyanna for five seconds.” Sansa continued smoothly. “But if anything were to happen to her I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

Suitably chastened by Sansa’s gravitas and control, everyone quieted as Jon turned around to take stock of the situation. Catelyn was still emotionally charged by Sansa’s masterful take of the situation, and Jon avoided Ned’s eyes lest his ‘father’ realise the truth and give everything away.

Lyanna hadn’t called him Papa yet, so maybe he could pretend to be taking care of Sansa’s daughter. Lyanna had Sansa’s eyes, but would they believe that Sansa’s child would have curly black hair? Jon tried to think whether Catelyn or Ned would think that Joffrey married Sansa. It was probably logical, and might explain why Jon would be holding Sansa’s child, if Jon wanted to have the explanation that he was the babe’s uncle.

But Jon could never give up his daughter’s fatherhood to Joffrey Baratheon, of all people, even as a lie.

“I promise there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.” Jon said, still racking his brain for a reasonable explanation. The reasonable explanation was that he and Sansa loved each other and did the thing to create babies many, many times, but no one could know that…

“Of course there is.” Sansa continued, now coming to sit beside Arya as Jeyne Poole stood gaping in the doorway. “Jon is looking after you, isn’t he?” Sansa asked Lyanna, who happily sat on Sansa’s lap. “Can you say Uncle Jon?”

“UNCA BAN!” Lyanna shouted with the proud air of one who had done the right thing.

“No sweetling. Uncle Bran is over there next to Uncle Rickon.” Sansa pointed out her two brothers, who were watching with no small amount of curiousity.

“Can you say Uncle Jon?”

Lyanna looked at Sansa as if she was confused at to what her mama wanted from her. 

“That’s okay sweetheart. Would you like some lunch with Mama?”

Lyanna nodded happily, and while she was distracted by munching on a roll, Sansa nodded at Jon to sit next to her.

“Jon, I apologise for Lyanna not knowing your name. I suspect that we’re still not very close, however you are clearly trusted with my daughter.” Sansa paused, continuing to speak in a low murmur that only Arya could hear. “Even if Lyanna is not my daughter, for some reason she believes me to be her mother - only I don’t know how. You don’t need to explain everything - I just - I just might need your help.”

Sansa, who had thrust herself into the role of motherhood without hesitation because a baby had run into her skirts, seemed unsure of Jon’s reaction.

“Of course I’ll help, Sansa, you don’t even have to ask.” 

Arya was frowning at Sansa with a mixture of confusion, annoyance and unexpected pride. 

“Sansa’s the Queen, isn’t she?” Arya asked, unaware that a petal was gently drifting down above her.

Jon nodded slowly. 

Thinking for a moment, Arya realised why Sansa would make Jon a full Stark. If Jon was never going to have children, then Sansa could legitimise Jon without the concern that their mother had.

Arya pieced everything together.

“You're her King-”

Arya began to cough as the flower petal got into her mouth and down her throat through some tiny probability.

It’s almost as if someone deliberately cut her off at that moment.


	3. Chapter 3

Arya Stark whistled as she walked through the meadows of Winterfell. Though Jon was supposed to be with Lyanna and Sansa was supposed be inside with Alys Karstark, Arya, through painfully repressed memories, knew not to trust Jon and or Sansa with supposed to be, so Arya would let them know she was approaching just in case they were up to something.

There was a strange shimmer in the air around her that seemed slightly off, though Arya couldn’t put a finger as to why.

Before she could consider why she felt that way, she heard footsteps behind her.

“Lady Stark,” It was Ser Jaime Lannister. “Have you seen His Grace? Her Grace has finished her meeting with Lady Karstark.”

“Lannister.” Arya intoned with a nod. “I am looking for him myself -”

Arya was distracted as the shimmer she had seen earlier seemed to shift slightly.

“Do you see that?” Arya demanded.

Jaime looked confused. “The flowers?”

”Would I be asking you if you see the flowers you addle-brained Lannister? If I think your eyes an brain were that deteriorated would I not have banished you from my sister’s service long ago?”

“Well what are you talking about.” Jaime replied with the affronted air of someone treated most unfairly.

“I think I see an image in the air.” Arya said, gently moving through the flowers.

“Now who’s crazy?” Jaime asked. “And you’re yelling at me for… not seeing things?”

But their banter stopped as Arya bent down and rose up with Lyanna Stark’s little glove.

Arya was off in a flash. “Stay here.” She commanded. “I’m going to get Sansa.”

 

Jaime Lannister waited and Brienne of Tarth quickly came into view with Podrick Payne at her side.

“Her Grace and Lady Stark suspect something has happened to His Grace and their child.”

Jaime, who had been studying the area, found signs of failed attempts to craft flowers, and picked stems near where Arya found Lyanna’s glove, but no signs of them leaving. It was as if they disappeared.

As Jaime explained that to Brienne, it seemed as if the air was slowing change, and they both saw what Arya had seen much earlier, a shimmering image of Winterfell from above.

Brienne picked up a flower petal and threw it into the image, and it vanished.

“That’s strange.” Brienne said, before rising to the occasion as leader of the group. “Podrick, you will stay here and inform her Grace of the situation. We will go in and attempt to-”

”Wait.” Jaime stopped Brienne from bravely striding into the image. 

“We have to go in!”

”Of course, but there is a protocol.”

“You cannot mean?”

“Indeed I can. His Grace has commanded it.”

“I am sworn to Her Grace - she would not think it necessary.”

“But you are also sworn to obey his Grace in matters that Her Grace does not countermand, are you not?”

“Fine.” Brienne said. “But I hope she catches us. She’ll put an end to this nonsense, true as it may be.”

 

Sansa and Arya found Bran giggling away to himself.

“Bran?” Sansa asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course it is, Sansa.” Bran uncannily changed from giggling to a solemn, unemotional demeanour as he replied. “Lyanna is with Jons, but in the wrong time. Brienne and Jaime are about to go and get them.”

“I don’t see how that’s a laughing matter, though.” Arya frowned. 

“Oh, that’s not the funny part. Younger Jon fainted when Lyanna barrelled into younger Sansa. No one has noticed yet.”

“Why would Jon faint because of that?” Arya asked, looking at Sansa, who blushed.

What was going on?

“You didn’t know?” Bran laughed. “Jon had a real big crush on Sansa when he was young. And now a child has run from Jon into Sansa’s arms crying out ‘Mama’.”

“I suppose that would be funny if I saw it.” Arya conceded. “I am so going to mock Jon for this when he’s safely back.”

“Arya, it is your job to take care of things here if we don’t come back.” Sansa commanded, ready to go outside and meet up with Brienne and Jaime.

 

Now you’ve been reading and and we go back to the Great Hall of Winterfell where Arya is considering why Sansa would legitimise Jon, and the younger Jon stirred just in time to hear Arya say:

“You’re her King-”

And Jon, for the second time, fainted away. This time he fell off the bench, his predicament forgotten as Sansa handed Arya a cup of water even though she was flushing all over at Arya’s proclamation. 

Jon took the time and the chance to glance over to the head table where Catelyn looked tightlipped and murderous and Ned looked like he was breaking in to a cold sweat.

But Arya had stopped choking and continued. “ I was going to say that Jon must be your King-”


End file.
